


I am Strong, and I am Lovable

by magicites



Category: The Missing: J.J. Macfield and the Island of Memories (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Canon, Slurs, discussions of transphobia, spoilers in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicites/pseuds/magicites
Summary: In the end, J.J. got the girl, but real life doesn't end with a happily ever after. She never expected it to.The pain still endures, though her joy is greater. With friends who love her and a future to work towards, it is enough.





	I am Strong, and I am Lovable

**Author's Note:**

> This goes out to Khris, who gave me a code to buy The Missing. I promptly fell IN ABSOLUTE LOVE WITH IT and played it to 100% completion just so I could get all that sweet, sweet content. Honestly one of the most powerful games I've played this year.
> 
> This just meant to be a warm up piece, but it's going on here because only having 3 fics for such a fantastic story is way too sad for me.

“I’m glad you’re in my class again, Macfield. You’re a diligent student, and I believe you’ll enjoy the topics we’ll focus on this semester,” Professor Goodman says over the sound of his printer roaring to life. He grabs the paper it spits out and hands it to J.J., accompanying it with a few moments of silence so she can read it over.

She holds a checklist of all the supplies needed for this semester’s class. It’s a direct continuation of last semester’s course, transitioning from the analysis of the hardware needed for different products to the software necessary for them to run. She’ll need to verify that all of the classroom computers are outfitted with the appropriate programs and that the demonstrations Professor Goodman will do throughout the semester have all the appropriate materials.

“When do you need this completed by?” J.J. asks.

“Prior to the second week of classes. While your cohort for last semester is mostly intact, save for the disappearance of one particular young man who I know is no longer continuing with our program, there are a few names on the roster I don’t recognize. Thus, we’ll spend the first session primarily focused on the course syllabus and introductions.”

“The second week. Can do,” she replies, nodding to herself. Emily is coming down to visit for the first week of the new semester, since her school starts later, but J.J. can make time for both. She’s done it before.

She doesn’t miss the way Professor Goodman’s eyebrows raise behind his glasses. He wears the small, square ones, the kind that J.J. associates less with professors and more with sitcom dads. Strangely, the sight comforts her. “Are you sure you won’t be taking on too much, Macfield? I don’t want to overload you at the start of the new year. Be sure to take time for yourself, too.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay,” she says. 

His expression shifts into something unreadable for just a moment, eyes twitching in the beginnings of an aborted wince. The events of last semester - the defibrillator, the stains on the floor of Moosewood Auditorium that they’ve been forced to cover with carpets because no amount of bleach could get it out, the way that F.K.’s belly is no longer the creamy white it used to be regardless of how many times she’s tried to wash it - hang over J.J.’s interactions like a heavy cloud of smog. No one believes her when she says she’s okay and she can never blame them. She wouldn’t believe herself either.

The worry doesn’t leave Professor Goodman’s face, but the moment dies a quick death. Not torn apart limb by limb - simply here one moment, and vanished the next. “If it ever becomes too much, please let me know. You know that I’m here to support you, as are your classmates and your family.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Professor Goodman turns back to his computer and begins typing furiously, drafting the welcome email that J.J. knows he’ll ask her to read over by the end of the day just to see if its warm enough to the students that don’t already know him. He cares so much for his students and it shows in every action he makes. 

J.J.’s mom calls him  _ intentional _ , the same Christian buzzword always used for people who actually give a shit about something. It’s one of the best compliments her mom could ever give someone, and as corny as it can be, J.J. agrees. She wants to be that type of person one day, that person who excels at letting other people know how much she cares. He shares that quality with Emily. Maybe that’s why she agreed to be his assistant in the first place - because he makes her feel safe.

The rumors have mostly died down, but J.J. still gets stares in the hallways. College students are better than high schoolers, for the most part. If she were still in high school, people would probably mimic slashing their wrists whenever they see her. They would have made a new Facebook profile for her after the administration took it down. They wouldn’t throw things, not after the crackdown the school did on respecting and celebrating diversity (in what, a small liberal arts school in Maine where ninety percent of the population looks and behaves exactly the same? Please), but their jeers wouldn’t have been reduced to whispers like they are now.

J.J. can handle the whispers. She’s handled them all her life, and the slurs changing from  _ fag _ and  _ sissy _ to  _ tranny _ and  _ trap _ isn’t that different from before. It’ll always hurt, her flesh tearing apart at the seams with every word, but she’s better at dealing with it now.

While Emily isn’t here anymore to shield her from the insults and distract her from the stares, she’s only ever a phone call away.

These days, Abby will scream back at the insults, and Lily is so good at guilting people into apologizing directly to J.J. after being awful that it’s kind of terrifying. Professor Goodman keeps a rainbow flag in his office and every classroom he inhabits for longer than twenty minutes. Even Philip tries to support her in his own way, having released a video last week about the best protein powders and how it doesn’t matter what gender it’s marketed to.

The most surprising change is how hard her mom is trying. The counselor’s number is blocked on both their phones, and in exchange for not eating a single donut over winter break her mom gave J.J. enough money to buy, and J.J. quotes, “Whatever outfit she’d like from the store.”

Thankfully her mom isn’t here, and so when J.J.’s stomach begins to rumble, she excuses herself from Professor Goodman’s office and heads down a well-worn path to the closest Sleepy’s Donuts. She wraps her shawl - the same shawl from her dream, the same one Emily helped her buy that now always feels like her embrace - tighter around her shoulders to protect herself from the gusts of winter air that come in from the open windows. The hall is mostly empty, thankfully, and the only person who stares at her is an old classmate from Freshman year calculus that offers her a smile when they make eye contact.

J.J.’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she quickly fishes it out. Her heart grows warm when she sees who it’s from and immediately accepts the caller's Facetime request, letting Emily’s beautiful smile takes over her phone’s small screen. The first thought J.J. has is how she should have asked her mom for the bigger phone when she offered, if only so she could see more of Emily when she calls.

“J.J.!” Is all Emily says, just the sound of her name coming from Emily’s voice enough to make J.J.’s stomach do a happy flip.

“Hey Emily. What’s up?”

Emily pouts. “Do I have to have a reason to want to talk to you?”

In a previous world, she would have said _my best friend_ at the end of that sentence. Things are different now, a little too muddled at the edges for that label to be entirely accurate. They’re not dating, or at least they’ve never said it out loud to each other, but the feeling of Emily’s lips on her own have become more than just a fever dream in these last few months. “What? No, of course not!”

“Good! What are you up to?”

“Not much. On my way to Sleepy’s. I’m craving a donut.”

Emily giggles. “Or two?”

“Or maybe ten. You never know.”

That makes Emily laugh, J.J.’s stomach flipping over and over in time to her giggles. She lets the rest of the world drift away in their easy banter, going back and forth the same way they always have.

Things aren’t always okay. There are too many days where J.J. wishes that she had given in to the Hairshrieker and let her hands drag J.J. down into oblivion. 

But then there are days like these, full of laughter and sweetness, and they remind her of why she keeps going. She fights for her friends, her loved ones, and for the future that she knows is just around the corner.


End file.
